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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25393993">The New Monsters</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Fine_Piece/pseuds/A_Fine_Piece'>A_Fine_Piece</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Thin Red Line [59]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Bleach</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Marriage, Married Sex, Secret Crush, Twins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:47:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,584</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25393993</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Fine_Piece/pseuds/A_Fine_Piece</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Renji and Rukia leave for Hueco Mundo and catch up with some old friends.  Byakuya and Hisana discuss financing the imminent conflict with Aizen.  Yoruichi proposes a meeting of the Four Noble Houses.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kuchiki Byakuya/Kuchiki Hisana</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Thin Red Line [59]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/93946</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The New Monsters</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Renji doesn’t know what to do with himself standing there.  In that big corridor.  In that big, unfriendly manor.  Next to a captain that Renji swears has artic air for reiatsu. </p><p>Usually, Kuchiki manor doesn’t seem <em>that </em>unpleasant.  Not if Renji is with Rukia, or with Rukia and Hisana, or, hell, Rukia, Hisana, and the twins.  The instant Renji encounters Captain Kuchiki, however, he feels a shift.  His nerves crack and pop.  The warmth in his veins goes cold. </p><p>At least for the moment, the captain’s attention is focused elsewhere, on his wife, Rukia, and the younger twin, Shirofumi.  But, it won’t be long.  Only a matter of <em>seconds</em> before the captain will turn to him with his lifeless gray eyes, impassive expression, and bitter silence. </p><p>The <em>silence</em> gets to Renji the most. </p><p>The mere thought of it sends a cold blast down his back.  Staving off the urge to shiver, Renji wonders how Rukia and the lady weather the blister of the captain’s wordless pauses.  </p><p>Instinctively, Renji eyes the door at the far end of the corridor.  It leads to a side-yard of the manor.  Sweet escape is on the other side, he notes.  But, he can’t leave.  He’s stuck.  Stuck wishing that he could <em>blend</em> into the walls.   </p><p>A damn impossibility, Renji knows. </p><p>He sticks out like a sore thumb among the blue-eyed, ivory-complexioned, raven-haired Kuchiki.  This realization triggers a new faultline in him.  Suddenly, he’s hyper-aware of just how much space he is taking up in that over-sized hallway.  He feels like he’s too much.  Too red.  Too dark.  Too tall.  Too stocky. </p><p>He feels like a five-pound sausage stuffed into a one-pound casing. </p><p>“Abarai,” says the captain in his patented deadpan.</p><p>Renji swallows hard.  But, he steels himself, prepared.  <em>Is that the key?</em> he wonders.  Preparation?</p><p>Yet, when the captain acknowledges him, Renji isn’t instantly struck by Kuchiki’s hardness or cold demeanor.  No, what grabs Renji's attention first is just how <em>rough</em> the captain looks.</p><p>Like <em>real rough.</em> </p><p>But it’s not the obvious kind of <em>rough </em>that Renji can readily place. </p><p>It isn’t the Eleventh’s brand of <em>rough</em>, the kind that comes on the heels of a weekend-long bender, where you <em>pour yourself out of bed</em> with far less enthusiasm than you poured the drink that wound you up there in the first place.  Nor is it the <em>rough </em>that results from a particularly bruising duel, hair matted in a rat’s nest and silks askew. </p><p>Captain Kuchiki’s silks are notably straight, not even a wrinkle in the fall of his blue kimono.  Nor is there a silken strand out of place on the captain’s head. </p><p>No, the captain’s brand of <em>rough </em>goes deeper.  Cuts to the quick.  It’s pale skin, bled and translucent, and gray circles that rim the eyes.  It’s eyes that are shot through with tangles of red lines.  It’s features sharpened from the thoughts that fill him fuller than food.</p><p>“Captain Kuchiki,” answers Renji on a low breath.  He bows his head politely. </p><p>When Renji lifts his head and catches the captain’s gaze again, the captain’s weariness only seems to deepen.</p><p><em>‘How bad are things?’</em> Renji can’t help but wonder. </p><p>“For the sands,” says Captain Kuchiki, offering Renji a white mantle.</p><p>Renji accepts it with another bow.  “Thank you, Captain.” </p><p>Glancing down at the fabric, Renji is tempted to throw it on just to distract his thoughts from the captain’s heavy stare.  He, however, quickly tosses this urge aside when he sees another mantle draped over the captain’s arm.  Likely one for Rukia.</p><p>Rukia can try it on first, Renji decides.  That way if she puts it on backward or inside-out the family will find it quaint and not idiotic.</p><p>Captain Kuchiki stares at him for a long moment.  Too long a moment.  Renji feels sweat begin to prick his back.  His pulse throbs in his neck.  Sparks of electricity shoot with each squeeze of the blood vessel.  Nervously, Renji’s attention flits to Rukia.  She is kissing the babe’s hand.  The babe responds by blowing little bubbles with his mouth.</p><p>Renji’s attention returns to Captain Kuchiki, who is also watching the twin smiling at Rukia like she hung the moon.  Then, for a fleeting second, Captain Kuchiki’s entire expression <em>melts</em>. </p><p>Renji knows the captain wants to go to his wife and child.  And, likely feeling the weight of both his and the captain's stares against her back, Lady Kuchiki glances over her shoulder at them both.  A wide smile hangs from her lips.  She whispers something against the child’s head, which seemingly convinces him to release his hold of Rukia's hair. </p><p>Wordlessly, Lady Kuchiki and Captain Kuchiki trade conversation partners, and Renji couldn’t be <em>happier</em>. </p><p>“Mr. Abarai,” she almost sings, smile widening.  Adjusting the babe against her right hip, Lady Kuchiki’s free hand slips inside the bag that hangs from the bend in her arm.  “Here they are,” she says and withdraws a few provisions.</p><p>Leaning conspiratorially close, Lady Kuchiki murmurs a low, “You’ll have to forgive my dear husband.  He’s gone on some health food <em>kick</em>.”  Her bright violet eyes darken as she forces a grave tone, “He has only the best intentions, <em>but </em>I want to strangle the person who introduced him to <em>bananas</em>.”</p><p>Renji presses his lips firmly together to stifle the urge to <em>laugh</em>. </p><p>It was Matsumoto, Renji thinks.  Vice Captain Matsumoto took a liking to bananas a few years ago and has since pulled <em>numerous</em> and <em>various</em> strings to ensure they are readily available in the Seireitei at all times.</p><p>“Seaweed, bananas, and chili paste.  Can you believe it?  No, you can’t.  You’re a sweet summer child; you couldn’t fathom the pallet it would take to choke that combination down.”  Lady Kuchiki shudders a little as if reliving a <em>nightmare</em>.  “Don’t worry,” she whispers, cutting a furtive glance in her husband’s direction to ensure he isn’t spying on them, “I got the <em>good stuff</em>.”</p><p>The lady’s secretive glances and whispered words smack of the illicitness of an Inuzuri drug deal.  And, yet, the mere <em>thought</em> of the prim Lady Kuchiki acting as a supplier of <em>confections</em>, like they’re contraband, forces a wet chortle to Renji’s throat.  He stuffs it down fast, and, reflexively, his eyes dart to Rukia and Captain Kuchiki.</p><p>“Don’t look!” whispers Lady Kuchiki, poking his arm with the point of her elbow, “He’ll suspect there’s subterfuge afoot!” she teases before shoving a small bag full of goodies in Renji’s hands. </p><p>“Rice dumplings and taiyaki,” she says on a hushed breath, leaning closer.</p><p>Rukia’s and his favorites.  Renji grins approvingly.</p><p>“I made sure there were extra in case your human friends get hungry,” adds Lady Kuchiki, but, just before she can finish her sentence, Shiro reaches eagerly for Renji and latches onto the slack of his uniform.</p><p>Without hesitation, Renji shifts the baby into his arms. </p><p>Shiro immediately goes for Renji’s hair, bunching a handful of it and yanking as hard as he can.   “Where’s Haku?” Renji asks, leaning his head into the direction of the babe’s tugging.</p><p>“Still sleeping,” says Lady Kuchiki on a long breath, “Haku and I like to sleep past daybreak, but not Shiro.  Shiro and his father want to take the world by storm at the first sign of light.”</p><p>Renji’s grin widens.  He wasn’t any different as a kid.  He hated to sleep, even as his body drove him into the bed.</p><p>Lady Kuchiki gazes sidelong at her husband and Rukia, both of whom appear to be nearing the tail-end of their conversation.  As she watches them, her expression deflates.  Gone are the lady's grins and crafty glances.  What’s left is worry.  Real worry.   </p><p>“Be careful, Mr. Abarai,” she whispers.</p><p>“Lady Kuchiki needn’t worry about me,” says Renji, hoping his confidence convinces her.</p><p>It doesn’t. </p><p>“I know I don’t need to ask,” she says, “but, please, watch over Rukia.”  </p><p>“Of course, milady.” </p><p>Renji’s words, however, are quickly overlapped by the captain turning to them to announce, “It’s time.”</p><p>Reflexively, Lady Kuchiki stretches up, arms ready for Shiro’s weight.  “Say goodbye to <em>Uncle Abarai</em>,” she says and coaxes the child fingers to release Renji’s hair and kimono.  Then, with a sly wink, she adds, “No pressure, Mr. Abarai.”</p><p><em>Uncle.</em> </p><p>Lady Kuchiki called him <em>‘uncle.’</em></p><p>Renji blinks.  Eyes wide.  Heart leaping to his neck.  A stinging burn spreads across his face, and he finds himself helplessly riding a tide of feelings.  He gapes at Lady Kuchiki with all the shame of a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.   </p><p>The lady, however, responds with a knowing look, as if <em>maybe</em>, just <em>maybe</em>, she had baited him with the word.  It was effective bait.  And, like a dog to fresh meat, he jumped at it, jaws snapping.</p><p>Whatever the lady’s suspicions may have been, Renji can’t help but feel that he confirmed them.   He confirmed them real good.  Like an <em>idiot!</em></p><p>“Are you sexually harassing Sister, Renji?”  teases Rukia, arms folded against her chest.  “You’re turning awfully red.”</p><p>“What—?” Renji splutters, breath cutting up the back of his throat.  Reflexively, he glances over his shoulder to find the captain standing straight as a board, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. </p><p>That expression, Renji has come to learn, is Kuchiki for <em>mortification.</em> </p><p>“Rukia!” cries Lady Kuchiki, arranging Shiro’s weight comfortably in her arms.  “Do not impugn the vice captain’s good character like that!”</p><p>Renji <em>glares</em> at his childhood friend.  His very <em>smug</em>, very <em>haughty</em> childhood friend, who, he knows, is very satisfied with her <em>impugning</em>.</p><p>Rukia replies with a knowing smirk, eyes fixing Renji.  “C’mon, Renji,” she sighs stiffly, jerking her head in the direction of the door leading to the side-yard.  “Let’s go.”</p><p>Captain Kuchiki leads the way, peeling back the door.  Into the crisp autumn morning they go. It isn’t a long trip before the captain stops and turns to Rukia and Renji.</p><p>“The Captain-Commander agreed to allow a small exploratory party to search Hueco Mundo for the girl.  Captain Ukitake and I volunteered our vice captains for the task,” says Captain Kuchiki, voice even and neutral, as if this mission should be a walk-in-the-park.</p><p>This isn’t going to be a walk in the park.  Renji can feel it in his bones.  Not if what they encountered in the World of the Living is any indication. </p><p>Nope, this is going to be fucking hard. </p><p>Renji suspects that the captain is fully aware of the dangers that lurk in Hueco Mundo, but is sparing Lady Kuchiki, who stands wearing a grave expression next to Rukia. </p><p>Renji wonders what else the captain’s words hide. </p><p>Did Captains Kuchiki and Ukitake even “volunteer” Rukia and him?  Is Captain Kuchiki only letting them go because he knows they would’ve snuck out anyway? It’s not like there's much else to stop them.  Not now.  Not with all of Soul Society’s institutions in shambles.</p><p>Captain Kuchiki opens the Senkaimon and steps aside.  “Kisuke Urahara will open the Garganta for you in the World of the Living.” </p><p>Renji’s doesn’t miss the iron blading Captain Kuchiki’s voice at the mention of Urahara.  <em>‘Must kill him</em>,<em>’</em> Renji thinks.  Relying on a criminal of another stripe to secure their entry into Aizen’s stronghold.</p><p>“Thank you, Brother,” says Rukia, who bows low to both her siblings.  “Goodbye, Sister.”</p><p>Renji follows suit.  His bow is not as deep or as reverent as Rukia’s.  Then, they are off.</p>
<hr/><p>Hisana’s eyes linger on the space where the Senkaimon had appeared.  All that remains of it are a few scattering particles, and, yet, she can still feel the chill of the portal’s doors opening and slamming shut.</p><p>Shiro squirming in her arms drags her attention to her husband, who the babe is desperately grasping for.  “You always were his favorite,” she says sweetly, handing the child to Byakuya, who takes the boy with graceful ease.</p><p>Hisana pauses for a small moment to observe her husband.  Even with his son in his arms, Byakuya appears <em>burdened</em>.  Weary eyes betray a restless mind.</p><p>“Is what you told them the truth?” she asks.  “Did the Captain-Commander agree to the exploratory team?”</p><p>When Byakuya glances down at her, Hisana can’t hide her worriment quick enough. He sees it, and he does not look away.</p><p>Hisana knows—deep in her heart—that even if the Captain-Commander had ordered a lockdown, Byakuya would lie to her and tell her that the mission is completely above-board.</p><p>He’d lie just to ease her mind.</p><p>“Yes,” he says, drawing to her side.  He watches her with a tender sidelong stare, and they begin down the cobblestone path toward the manor.  “At the Council meeting late last night the Captain-Commander was adamant about moving quickly after Aizen’s abduction of the girl.”</p><p><em>So, it’s a matter of pride, then</em>. </p><p>At Byakuya’s words, Hisana can almost feel the collective insult that must’ve thrummed through the Council meeting when the leadership of the Gotei 13 learned that Aizen had struck again, taking what he pleased without so much as a fight from them.</p><p>Likely sensing her unease, Byakuya drifts closer, the warmth of his sleeve caressing her arm.  It’s tenderness made practical, she thinks, glancing up at him.  Eyes warm.  Heart strumming a quiet beat.</p><p>Absently, she watches the small movements of Byakuya’s hand patting their son’s back.  The babe responds by nuzzling into the small of his father’s neck to settle. <em>And yet</em>, despite Shiro’s sweet snuggling, Byakuya stares vacantly ahead.  Eyes distantly searching the middle distance for something.  A solution to this fine mess?  Peace?  Hisana isn’t sure.</p><p>All she knows is that there is something plucking away at her husband’s thoughts.  Something that he's hesitant to confide in her.  This realization brings pain.</p><p>“Milord—” Hisana begins, but Byakuya cuts her off.</p><p>“Did that <em>ruffian</em> impose upon you?” he finally asks, head tilted just enough that when they enter the manor, the shadows lingering at the door fall heavy across his face.</p><p>“To the contrary,” Hisana laughs before stopping to add, “and I know you know his name.  You just said it a minute ago.”  </p><p>“He doesn’t deserve a name if he’s imposed.”</p><p>Hisana starts a little at the force with which her husband speaks.  Then, it dawns on her, and she can’t help the giggle that escapes. “Are you <em>jealous</em> of Renji Abarai?” </p><p>She means the question as a joke, but Byakuya bristles when it lands.</p><p>He bristles like a man who’s been cut. </p><p>“Should I be?”</p><p>Hisana resists the urge to jerk back when she sees the glint of sincerity flash white in his eyes.  She has read her sweet husband’s intentions all wrong. Byakuya must be nearing exhaustion for his mind to inflict this injury.</p><p>“No,” she says softly. </p><p>“He was blushing when he left.”</p><p>Hisana shakes her head, and, catching Byakuya’s stare, she offers a kind smile as a balm.  She presses closer, letting her arm nudge him encouragingly, as they begin down the corridor. </p><p>It is a rare day to witness anything approaching jealousy in her husband. </p><p>This simply will not do.</p><p>“Alright,” she begins, “I will confess that there is a mutual affection between Renji and me.”</p><p>Byakuya’s eyes widen for a moment.</p><p>“But,” she adds with a crooked grin, “this mutual affection is decidedly a-romantic.” </p><p>The breath gathered in the hollow of Byakuya’s neck releases.</p><p>“Milord’s perceptiveness, however,” she continues, watching him carefully, “isn’t wrong. It’s the aim that’s misplaced.”</p><p>Cocking his head to the side, Byakuya’s gray stare glitters in the dim light.  “I don’t understand.”</p><p>“I think you sense that Renji’s a threat to your position with one of your female relations.  One you hold dear.  But it’s not this one.”  Hisana pauses, certain that her husband will catch up to her.</p><p>“Rukia,” he says after a few long seconds.  “You think the <em>ruffian</em> is infatuated with Rukia?” </p><p>Hisana doesn’t miss the appalled look that creases Byakuya’s face or the disgust crawling in his voice when he says the word “<em>ruffian”</em> like it tastes of pure poison.</p><p>“I think <em>Renji</em> is in <em>love</em> with Rukia, yes.”  </p><p>“If he <em>dares </em>to do anything to her or <em>think</em> anything untoward—”</p><p>Hisana cuts him off with a laugh.  “The sword is likely out of the sheath on the latter.”</p><p>Rankled, Byakuya stops in his paces and searches her.  His disbelieving gaze is hot on her face.  “How long have you known of his predilection for my sister?”</p><p>Hisana’s jaw drops. <em>His sister</em>?  If he were in a better mood or state of mind, she would mock him for that.  But, as it stands, she lets it go. </p><p><em>For now</em>.</p><p>“Probably for as long as you’ve been referring to him as the <em>ruffian</em>,” Hisana replies and quirks a brow. </p><p>They’ve both sensed Renji’s affection deepening for Rukia for about the same length of time.  Her sweet, deluded husband, however, could not accept the source of his sudden dislike of the Thirteenth’s Vice Captain.</p><p>Byakuya’s lips part, and Hisana thinks he wants to protest her conclusion.  But, he doesn’t. </p><p>“She’s growing up,” reasons Hisana, “as are her friends.  Surely, you realized that she would become the object of someone’s interest?”</p><p>A muscle flickers in his jaw.  “Yes, but I thought it would be someone worthier.”</p><p>“Worthier?” scoffs Hisana. She doesn’t know where to begin with <em>that </em>archaic premise.  “Who do you think is <em>worthier?”</em></p><p>The answer, Hisana knows, is <em>no one</em>.</p><p>Any person who dares to ask for Rukia’s hand in marriage will turn up wanting in her husband’s estimation.  The poor suitor’s demeanor or wealth or manners or relations will all pale in comparison to her husband’s hopes and dreams for his sister’s <em>perfect </em>union.  Which, given how much her husband opposes <em>change </em>in any direction, Hisana is forced to the conclusion that, if Byakuya had his druthers, Rukia would remain with them, single in relation, until time turned them all to dust. </p><p>“A lord, of course,” he says after much internal debate.  “A lord and a scholar.”</p><p>“Not an officer of the Gotei 13?”  Color her surprised that this isn’t her husband’s <em>first qualification</em>.</p><p>“Of course, he would need to be a seated officer.”</p><p>She chuckles.  “A lord, scholar, and soldier.  So, someone like Kira Izuru, then?”</p><p>Byakuya’s brows furrow.  “No.  He would need to be of high nobility.  And, he would need an easier demeanor.  But, not too easy.  He would need to be protective, but appropriately distant to ensure she could grow, but never stray too far off course.  He would need to be—”</p><p>“You?” says Hisana before her husband can finish extolling the many virtues of this hypothetical <em>fantasy </em>person.</p><p>He stops, shoulders deflating slightly, as if he can’t help but agree with her assessment.  “What's wrong with wanting a marriage like ours for her?”</p><p>Hisana smirks.  “<em>You</em> married a <em>ruffian</em>.”</p><p>Byakuya looks stricken at her words.  “I did not,” he says, his features softening, “you didn’t have a peerage, but you were no less a lady.”</p><p>Hisana is touched at his concern that he may have unwittingly offended her, but this, too, is misplaced.  “Renji is a Vice Captain, which puts him in league with Rukia.”</p><p>Byakuya shakes his head.  “His temperament, his demeanor, his <em>tattoos—</em>”</p><p>“Were you not seriously considering him as your Vice Captain?”</p><p>His brows knit together at this.  “That is a completely separate analysis.”</p><p>“There is no possible overlap between the characteristics of an honorable Vice Captain and that of a good husband?  You were an honorable Vice Captain when we wed.”</p><p>Byakuya pauses to weigh her words more thoroughly.  “Perhaps.  But, someone deserving of Rukia would need more than the mere qualifiers of a Vice Captain.”</p><p>With that, it’s Hisana’s turn to stop in her paces.  “<em>Deserving of</em>,” she sighs, frustration hammering her head.  Bloodless preparation and careful calculations will make a poor marriage for Rukia.  It certainly did not serve Byakuya well in his youth.  “Rukia isn’t a prize to be won.  How much a person might be found <em>deserving </em>of affection, does not mean it is owed.  From her.  Or us.  Or anyone.  And, if that were the standard, then I can think of few others who have proven themselves more deserving or capable of loving Rukia than Renji.”</p><p>“So, you approve of <em>this</em>?”</p><p>Flabbergasted. </p><p>Hisana stands absolutely flabbergasted.  “It doesn’t matter whether I approve or not.  Did your <em>elders’</em> <em>approval</em> matter to you?”</p><p>A ripple goes through Byakuya, like a vibration humming along a tautly strung bow.  “Do you think she feels similarly toward Renji?”</p><p>Finally, the question that matters. However, it’s also the question that Hisana can’t answer.  Her sister is so guarded with her feelings that Hisana doesn’t know whether Rukia is disinterested, oblivious, or hopelessly in love.  The pit in Hisana’s stomach makes her think Rukia doesn’t notice her friend’s ardent staring or the romance in his gestures.</p><p>Life hasn’t been kind to Rukia or Renji, and Rukia has spent much of it trying her hardest to satisfy a million impossible expectations.  Hisana only hopes that Rukia’s obliviousness to Renji’s interest stems from being overwhelmed and not because Rukia feels undeserving of it.  The first can be easily corrected.  The latter?  Even Hisana hasn’t yet found a satisfying cure for.</p><p>“I don’t think she does,” says Hisana after a long moment. </p><p>“Good,” Byakuya says decidedly, “The ruffian may live another day.”</p><p>Hisana gapes, but the instant her husband cuts her an impish sidelong glance, she realizes his comment was made in jest, and she laughs.  “Too cruel, milord.”</p><p>He responds with a <em>tired</em> grin.  “You mentioned the Captain-Commander,” he notes, as if replaying their conversation in reverse, “were you truly concerned that the mission wasn’t officially sanctioned?”</p><p>A lazy smile thins Hisana’s lips.  “Not such a strange worry,” she says, countering the insinuation in his voice. </p><p>Byakuya isn’t wrong, though. </p><p>Usually, Hisana doesn’t care about the officialness of the orders or, really, the orders at all.  The less she knows of the Gotei 13 and its operations, the better.</p><p>Her husband is keenly aware of this aversion.</p><p>“Either you ask because you don’t trust Ukitake and me with our subordinates, <em>or</em>,” he pauses, eyes probing her, “you have some family dealing before the Captain-Commander directly and do not want to face uncomfortable questions.”</p><p>“You already know,” says Hisana, eying her husband slyly.  Not that she’s particularly surprised.  She imagines the Captain-Commander likely approached Byakuya first with the request.</p><p>“The Central 46 Chambers are fractured, and we are preparing for war.  Financing must come from someone’s coffer,” he observes, retracting the door to their quarters.  </p><p>Golden light curtains the room through the open exterior door that leads to the garden.  The nanny sits seiza at Haku’s side.  Between her hands is the morning paper.  The babe rests peacefully at her knee. </p><p>“Milord,” says the nanny, rising from her seat, “Milady.”  She offers them both a bow.  “The babe hasn’t stirred once.  Been perfectly quiet,” she says, eyes trailing to Haku. </p><p>“Thank you, Shina,” says Hisana with a tip of her head.</p><p>The nanny understands the gesture well enough and excuses herself, closing the door behind her.</p><p>Hisana takes the now-slumbering Shiro from Byakuya, and, with quiet ease, she places him on the futon beside his brother.  Then, she moves to Haku. </p><p>Her fingers flutter against Haku’s chest, rousing him just enough for his eyes to blink tiredly back.  Oh, how she knows that feeling.  Sleep is sweet, Hisana thinks, and she feels the child’s crankiness like it’s her own.</p><p>“Shh,” she whispers before Haku can protest being woken.  Hisana brings him into her arms, and it doesn’t take him long to settle sweetly in the crook of her neck.</p><p>Once the babe is soothed, Hisana glances askance at her husband.</p><p>Byakuya returns her gaze, eyes soft. </p><p>He never minds her feeding the twins in front of him, but she always seeks permission.  She doesn’t know why she does it.  Especially as her husband watches her and Haku with a rare expression of serenity.</p><p>How long has it been since she last saw Byakuya completely at ease?  Not weighed down by burden.  Not performing some complex calculus that would never properly tally.</p><p>His happiness, however, is momentary, disappearing when his eyes lower to the floor.  Winkles crease his brows.  His lips slope, and the weariness that had lifted returns, darker, heavier, and more burdensome than before.</p><p>Hisana knows that look well.  Happiness has a habit of eliding strengths with weaknesses.  The things that bring joy are fragile and capable of being weaponized.  She only hopes he doesn’t internalize this lesson, but she fears he has when she feels his reiatsu plucking a sad chord against hers. </p><p>Gazing into Haku’s face, Hisana finds a measure of strength in the purity of the suckling babe.  She takes this moment, allows it to wash over her, before letting her thoughts drift to the morass that they are in.</p><p>“What do you advise me to say to the Captain-Commander this morning?”  Her voice wavers but not as much as her heart does in her chest.  Usually, she doesn’t bring financing problems to her husband to sort, and, truly, she <em>hates</em> doing so now.  Her husband has enough to contend with.</p><p>
  <em>But…. </em>
</p><p>Hisana has a sinking feeling that the way she would approach this particular problem would not reflect her husband’s wishes. Her mission as Lady Kuchiki has always been a simple one:  Protect the clan.  His mission as Lord and Captain Kuchiki is more tortured:  Protect the clan; Protect the unit. </p><p>Which one takes priority?  The answer is usually the clan.  But, right now, they are edging on a conflict that will be costly.  Without the Central Chambers to allocate funds, it’s up to the charity of the nobles.  Rich people—as Hisana has learned long ago—aren’t particularly keen on parting ways with their wealth.  Especially since the Gotei 13 isn’t a <em>charity</em>; it’s an institution that has a history of executing its mission to the detriment of several notable families.  Sometimes the infractions are small; other times they are significant.</p><p>Then there’s the small matter that the Gotei 13 is down three traitorous captains, a dangerous artifact of which they had a hand in creating, and the girl that they had hoped could destroy said artifact.  To anyone paying attention, this series of unfortunate circumstances looks a whole lot like a self-inflicted wound.  Nobles do not pay for ineptness, and they happily exploit weakness.  Weakness, in particular, means concessions, quid pro quos, backroom dealings. </p><p>What a fine mess…. </p><p>“You think there is a conflict of interest?” asks Byakuya.</p><p>“I know there is a conflict of interest,” she responds. </p><p>That’s nothing new.</p><p>“<em>But…</em>,” Byakuya urges her to continue.  When she doesn’t immediately respond, he supplies a portion of the equation for her, “<em>But</em> you think capitulating here will place the clan in a weakened position?”</p><p>Hisana wants to frown, but Haku’s gray stare forces it back.  She doesn’t want her child to see frowning this early in his little life.  He has plenty of time as a Kuchiki to learn that expression <em>well</em>. </p><p>“Yes,” she says after a rearranging of thoughts, “At least two of the Four Families will not be moved to charity and will either deny any funding requests or will attempt to extract some opportunity for themselves.  Given the current mood, I doubt the Gotei 13 has any appetite for wheeling-and-dealing for funds that, otherwise, would be due it.”</p><p>“Leaving us with only the Shihōin as potential allies,” observes Byakuya.</p><p>Hisana presses her lips together.  She doesn’t like this idea either.  “Yūshirō might be swayed to donate to the cause, but he’s under the conservatorship of his uncle, who is shrewd enough to know that without the commitment of the two other Houses, the potential costs will bleed them and their affiliates dry.</p><p>“Without the Shihōin’s support, it’s just us, our branch families, and our affiliated Houses on the line for the cost of the conflict.  Our clan, alone, would have to liquidate a large number of assets.  Dissolve certain agreements and partnerships, which would make for a lot of burned bridges.  We’d certainly lose some of the lower Houses.  It would take years to undo the damage, and that’s assuming this conflict is short-lived and the collateral damage is limited.”</p><p>“You ran the numbers, I take it?” asks Byakuya.</p><p>Hisana glances up to find him standing with shoulder braced against the frame of the door leading into the garden.  The morning light limns him in gold.  He looks beautiful but deeply <em>unamused</em>. </p><p>“I had our accountant run some numbers.  He didn’t know the reason,” she says. </p><p>Good gods if their accountant knew they were running the financing scenarios associated with being the sole bank for the Gotei 13 during a war.  The whole nobility in the Seireitei would know in a minute, and the severity of what the three captains’ defections spell for Soul Society would be exposed more broadly.  Things would go from bad to worse pretty damn fast. </p><p>“It’s messy,” she says, voice carried on a sigh. </p><p>Byakuya leans the back of his head against the doorframe, and his eyes wander to the garden.  “Defend the clan, Hisana,” he decides on a low breath.  “Defend it like you would our sons.”</p><p>Her brows rise at this.  “Are you certain, milord?”</p><p>He turns his head to her.  Exhaustion extinguishes the fire in his eyes, but he nods. </p><p>“I imagine the Captain-Commander isn’t going to be pleased with you.”</p><p>Byakuya shakes his head.  “No.  He’ll be upset with <em>you</em>.  If he approaches me about the matter, it will be to strike a deal.” </p><p>“Will you take him up on the offer, if there is one?” asks Hisana.</p><p>“No.”  Byakuya’s eyes slide to her.  “I trust your judgment.  If someone is going to accept a counter-offer on behalf of the family, it will be you.”</p><p>While her husband’s confidence touches her, it also sends an electric current of dread down her spine.  If she’s going to play hardball with the Captain-Commander, she will need to come correct.  She has no doubt that he is not a man to be taken lightly.</p><p>With this worrying thought, Hisana hoists Haku to her shoulder and pats his back.  A sigh builds in her chest, but she smothers it with a ray of optimism.  There are still a few hours for her to strategize, to re-review the already-reviewed models, to consider the arguments the Captain-Commander will raise and the tactics he might employ.</p><p>“Wear your red silks,” Byakuya says thoughtfully, head turned to the garden.</p><p>Hisana grins at his suggestion.  She doesn’t need to ask him why.  She knows why. </p><p>Red is the color she wears when she’s done fucking around.</p>
<hr/><p><em>‘So this is Hueco Mundo,’</em> Rukia thinks to herself, eyes greedily surveying the horizon.  <em>‘It’s awful</em>.’  This thought brings a wry grin to her lips.</p><p>Aizen and his asshole confederates deserve no better than miles and miles of coarse sand and endless night.  She sincerely hopes they get sand in their eyes every damn day. </p><p>Godawful <em>sand</em>.  Gets everywhere.  She uses the slack in her cloak to prevent from inhaling any more of the stuff as she and Renji press forward.</p><p><em>Renji.</em> </p><p>Rukia cuts her friend a glance.  They haven’t said a word to each other since leaving Urahara’s shop.  She isn’t even sure they spoke <em>then</em>.  <em>Is he moping</em>? Maybe he’s still mad that she embarrassed him in front of her brother and sister? </p><p>Renji deserved it.  What was he doing <em>blushing</em> at <em>Sister</em>, anyway? Irritation flashes through her, heating her.  This, in turn, only draws more irritation. </p><p>What an idiot. </p><p><em>Was Renji actually swooning over Sister?</em>  His flush sort of reminded Rukia of the look the Academy boys would get when meeting Vice Captain Matsumoto or Captain Unohana for the first time: Cheeks stained bright red; eyes crawling on the ground; tension in their shoulders. </p><p>All <em>love-struck</em> idiots. </p><p>Then, it hits her.  It hits her like an anvil to the head.  “Are you still interested in fighting Brother?”</p><p>Renji hears her.  Rukia can tell by the jitteriness of his next step.  His shoulders pull back a little, and his gait goes leaden.  But, he doesn’t stop.  He doesn’t even spare her a damn glance. </p><p>“Well?” asks Rukia petulantly, refusing to be ignored.</p><p>“What if I say yes?”  Renji glimpses her over his shoulder. </p><p>The look is a sly one, one that Rukia could’ve easily missed had she not been so focused on the broad expanse of his back. </p><p>Rukia huffs and folds her arms against her chest.  “Why?” </p><p>Again, her irritation amplifies, pulling at the threads of her muscles, making them go tight and taut.  She has never really forgiven him for this, not since she learned of this incredibly <em>stupid</em> <em>goal</em> of his all those months ago at the dive bar near the Eleventh.</p><p>Renji, however, doesn’t say a word, and the silence that creeps between them turns cold. </p><p>“If it’s because you want Sister, then it’s not going to work.”</p><p>“What?” Renji cries, sucking down a wet breath that immediately erupts from his lips as a hacking fit. </p><p>“She’ll hate you forever if you do anything to Brother,” says Rukia, whetting her words like blades.  “And, you know, she’s really not your type.  She likes dance and calligraphy and ikebana and playing the koto.  Those things aren’t really your things.”</p><p>Renji glares at her.  “No shit.”</p><p>“Plus,” Rukia continues, ignoring the offense building in her friend’s face, “Sister’s not a fighter.  She doesn’t know much about zanpakutō or kidou or hakuda or, you know, that stuff.” </p><p><em>‘The</em> <em>important stuff</em>,’ Rukia wants to add but stops short, her thoughts drifting to the <em>seemingly important stuff</em> that her sister knows loads about.  None of which would interest Renji in the slightest. </p><p>“Sister likes spreadsheets and math and finances.”</p><p>Renji is now gaping at Rukia.  She sees him and his <em>magnificent gape</em>, and she wonders when he’s going to deny her accusations.  She even pauses and gives him an opening. </p><p>When he doesn’t take the opportunity, Rukia continues, “Sister is also just too <em>much </em>for you.  It would be like a level two kidou practitioner trying to spit out hadou number 90.”</p><p>“What are you even—” stammers Renji, squinting down at Rukia, as if he can’t see her through all the confusion crowding his head. </p><p>“Really Brother is the only person for her.  And she him.”</p><p>“What the fu<em>—”</em></p><p>“You were blushing all this morning,” observes Rukia casually.</p><p>“Yeah, <em>I </em>was blushing.  Blushing at something Lady Kuchiki said.”</p><p>“Are you trying to <em>insinuate</em> something about my sister?”</p><p>Renji stares at her, wordless, before letting out a little growl.  He shoves his hand into his hair, dragging out a few errant strands from his ponytail in the process.  “No,” he finally admits on a low breath, as if maybe he wishes Sister <em>had</em> said something salacious, “it was me.  All me.”</p><p>Rukia stares at him.  Eyes wide.  Lips parted.  Anxiety braids her nerves, and she isn’t sure of its source.  For some reason, she wasn't expecting <em>this. </em>She was expecting him to tease her back, to tell her she was being ridiculous. She wasn’t expecting a sheepish look that edges on guilt.  </p><p>Rukia reaches for an insult, but before she gets the chance, Renji stops her.  “Lady Kuchiki is like a sister to me, and, in the hall, she referred to me as Uncle Abarai when taking Shiro back.”</p><p><em>And?</em> </p><p>Rukia blinks and stares blankly at him.</p><p>Did she miss something?  Like a part of the conversation?  Renji looks like he just copped to a crime and asked for her help in dumping the body.  But, he hasn’t.  She kind of wishes he had.  At least she’d know what to do. </p><p>Instead, Renji watches her with a cautious expression.  And for what?  Because Sister referred to him as “uncle” when they were playing with Shiro?  <em>So what?</em>  Calling close non-kin friends “<em>uncle” </em>is pretty common in Rukongai, and, despite Sister’s prim and proper air, there is just enough of Rukon in her that sets the nobility on edge.</p><p>Rukia shrugs a shoulder.  “Sister thinks of you like family, too.” </p><p>Did that really need to be stated?  Seems obvious.  Sister invites Renji to <em>everything</em>, usually in the same breath as she invites Rukia.  The only member of their family that seems to be oblivious to Renji is Brother.  But, that’s just Brother being… well… <em>Brother.</em> </p><p>“You really don’t get it,” says Renji, eyes on her, hot and hurt.</p><p>Rukia struggles to figure out what riddle he is weaving for her.  Usually, he’s so direct.  So plain-spoken.  They can talk about anything.  Except for the parts they avoid.  The parts they can’t.  Their boundaries drawn up and closely guarded.  But isn’t that part of the beauty of their relationship?  Knowing each other so well as not to intrude? </p><p>Is intrusion necessary?</p><p>Should she intrude right now?  Feels like she can’t.  Feels like he’s throwing up a shield.  One that she usually would respect as Renji being… <em>well… Renji</em>.</p><p>Does Sister intrude on Brother? </p><p>A dumb question, Rukia thinks.  Of course, Sister intrudes when Brother is being… <em>Brother</em>.  How else would Sister reach him if she didn’t?  She’s clever about it, though.  But, clever only seems clever because she knows Brother so well.</p><p>“What don’t I get, Renji?” says Rukia, thinking it’s a question that Sister might ask of Brother.  Rukia isn’t as soft as Sister, she thinks, but Brother needs coaxing.  Renji doesn’t.</p><p>Renji’s like her.  Coaxing makes him nervous.  Makes him close up.  Right.</p><p>
  <em>Right?</em>
</p><p>Rukia inhales a sharp breath when she realizes what she’s just done, what he might mean with his sudden sentimentality toward the word “uncle.”  The inkling pricks at her, but, before she can launch another question his way, Renji stops her with a glance.</p><p>“What you don’t get,” he says, voice full of gravel, “is that I don’t like your sister like that.  I like y—” before he can complete his thought the sand under his feet gives way.</p><p>Renji goes head over teacups.  With a loud yelp in his lungs, he tumbles from a steep incline.</p><p>Rukia rushes to the edge, careful to keep her weight light over the sinking sands.  Her arm shoots out, but it's too late, and, in wide-eyed horror, she watches helpless to stop the gravity that drags Renji down. </p><p>Once she guesses the end of his trajectory, Rukia flash-steps after him. </p>
<hr/><p>Byakuya pretends not to notice the odious woman who saunters into his unit office.  He merely wets his brush in the ink he has set to the side and continues, eyes focused on the parchment.  An incident report keeps his attention.  It’s one that his Vice Captain should be attending to, if she were here. </p><p>He frowns at the thought of Rukia alone in Hueco Mundo with only filthy human children and the ruffian to help her.  A sigh rattles in his chest, but, the moment Byakuya’s gaze tracks the awful creature that <em>preens</em> at the edge of his desk, he stifles the urge.</p><p><em>Does she</em> <em>really have to perch</em>?  Gods, how he hates it when she perches.  Instinctively, Byakuya braces himself, ready for her fingers to pluck something off his person, like a filcher bird stealing something shiny. </p><p>When Byakuya continues to ignore her, she takes it upon herself to sprawl across his desk.  Tossing her body to the side, she cups her chin in one hand.  With her other hand, she drums her fingertips against the top of the wood.  A lazy grin draws the corners of her lips up, and her eyes bore into him.</p><p>Had she been in her cat form, Byakuya does not doubt that she would be snapping her tail at him. </p><p>“You're no fun, little Byakuya,” teases Yoruichi.  The dark ends of her ponytail splay across his current report, smudging the ink.</p><p>Byakuya scowls at the ink bleeding into the fiber of the paper.  “Get off my desk,” he orders, “and see yourself out once you do.”</p><p>She chuckles, white teeth gleaming like pearls.  “So impertinent, little Byakuya.”  Yoruichi glances down at the incident report, and, without asking, slides it out of his reach.</p><p>He stops the flow of his brush right before the inked bristles can mark the grain of his desk.  “Go away.”</p><p>“Don’t you want to know why I’m here?”</p><p>“No.”  He punctuates this disinterest by dipping his brush into the ink.</p><p>“Don’t you want to know what happened at the meeting today with the Captain-Commander?”</p><p>“I do, but <em>you</em> don’t know what happened at the meeting,” Byakuya reaches for another report to review.  “You weren’t invited.”</p><p>“Your wife refused the Captain-Commander,” says Yoruichi, pretending not to hear him.  She sounds amused, words slipping out around a feline grin.  “Captain-Commander apparently was <em>not happy</em> about that.”</p><p>“How would you know?” </p><p>Again, she ignores him.  “You don’t seem surprised.”</p><p>He isn’t.  Hisana had confided her concerns to him about being the lone noble family opening its accounts to finance the Gotei 13.  Concerns he agrees are valid.  While he didn’t voice it during their discussion this morning, Byakuya doesn’t doubt that Hisana has more <em>personal</em> reasons for wanting to reject whatever proposal advanced by the Captain-Commander.  At least one of those reasons being that the Gotei 13 was fully prepared to execute Rukia with little forethought, evidence, or inquiry.</p><p>And, Byakuya shares his wife’s offense at their collective failure.  Indeed, the Gotei 13 has made several grievous miscalculations over the years, and, at times, those miscalculations have lost them the support of certain families and important members in the Seireitei. </p><p>“Oh, little Byakuya,” says Yoruichi, voice caught somewhere between scandalization and teasing rebuke, “don’t tell me that you cosigned this decision.”</p><p>Byakuya’s scowl morphs into a menacing glower when he finally breaks and regards the demoness in earnest.  “It never fails to amaze me at how people assume my marriage is as dysfunctional as the rest of the institutions in the Seireitei.”</p><p>Give a mouse a sliver of cheese and it asks for the whole wheel, Byakuya thinks miserably to himself.  Instantly, he regrets acknowledging Yoruichi at all when he sees how her eyes gleam.  Her grin splits into a toothy smile.</p><p>“You’re worried your immense wealth will be bled dry if you throw open the Kuchiki coffers?” she taunts him.</p><p>“I don’t see <em>your</em> clan stepping up to offer support.”</p><p>“What if I could get them to offer support.  Does that change the analysis?”</p><p>“A <em>folie à deux</em> sounds more <em>festive</em> than certain suicide, but I’d rather not submit my family to either.”  Byakuya returns his attention to the report.</p><p>Yoruichi dispenses with said report with a flick of her wrist, casting it off the desk.  She cocks her head, eyes dragging his attention back to her.  “What if I call a meeting of the Four Noble Houses to substitute the judgment of the Central 46?”</p><p>Byakuya sets his brush down, folds his arms in front of his chest, and sinks into the back of his chair.  He considers it for a moment.  For the Four Noble Houses to act in the Central 46’s stead, the families will need to reach an unanimous decision on whatever they decide.  </p><p>Therein lies the problem.  With the exception of the Kuchiki and Shihōin’s frequent alliances throughout the years, the remaining Houses are largely skeptical of one another.  Reaching consensus seems remote.</p><p>“The Takatsukasa won’t be easily convinced to loosen their purse strings without sizeable concessions,” reasons Byakuya. </p><p>“What about the Konoe?” she asks, grin slipping from her face.  </p><p>“You might be able to convince Tadahiro to appear at the meeting if I’m not there.”  He pauses and closes his eyes.  He doesn’t like the next thought.  It stings him and turns his stomach, but it forms part of a viable way forward.  “Hisana might be able to secure a concession from the Konoe.”</p><p>Wearily, Byakuya opens his eyes.  He hates offering his wife up for this task.  But, there is no one else in his family who he can think of to urge Tadahiro to comply. </p><p>“So, Hisana will represent the Kuchiki.  If we get three of the Houses to agree to a funding measure, how likely is it that the Takatsukasa capitulate?”  Yoruichi sits up on his desk, legs slung off the edge. </p><p>“It depends on the terms.  Sometimes Tadahiro can convince them to see an opportunity. Here, however, it seems doubtful.  It’s not as if the Captain-Commander can offer the family a share of the annual profits since we don’t run at a profit.”</p><p>“Well,” Yoruichi sighs, “we can <em>try</em>.  I’ll call the meeting for tomorrow morning.”</p><p>Byakuya gives a small nod of his head.  He pauses, eyes meeting Yoruichi’s stare.  His lips twist.  The words are there, banging around in his chest.</p><p>“Spit it out,” she growls.</p><p>“You’ll be there at the meeting?”</p><p>Yoruichi cocks a brow.  “Yeah.  Why?” </p><p>“Watch after Hisana.”  The moment the words leave his mouth, he wants to flinch.  His gaze flies to the wall. </p><p>Byakuya does not want to see that awful grin hang from her lips like she’s scored a point on him.  Asking for help… from Yoruichi… how far has he fallen?</p><p>“I think your wife can handle herself,” says Yoruichi.  He can practically hear the smile in her voice.</p><p>Yoruichi then slips off his desk and goes to the door, where she pauses.  “You’ve done well for yourself, little Byakuya,” she says with a fond look, “Don’t fuck it up.”</p><p>He lifts his head to throw an insult her way, but, before he can arrange the words in his head, she is gone.</p>
<hr/><p>Well, this is fucking <em>great</em>, Renji thinks as he pulls himself up off the ground.  Sand is everywhere.  His mouth is full of it.  Some is blinding his left eye.  He’s pretty sure he will be spitting this shit out for the rest of the year. </p><p>Hueco Mundo had to be a damn desert. </p><p>And, it <em>has </em>to be Ichigo Kurosaki and his <em>buddies</em> looming over him.  Ichigo looks pretty smug.  The asshole.</p><p>Ichigo’s smug look, however, gets wiped clean off his face when Rukia slugs him square in the jaw.  “What the hell, Ichigo?” she shouts over the boy’s spluttering.  “You were supposed to <em>wait </em>for us!”</p><p>Renji grins as he dusts the sand from his hakama.   </p><p>“I didn’t know if you’d be able to—” Ichigo can’t get his thought out in time before Rukia cuts him off with an upbraiding.</p><p>“Really.  <em>Really, </em>Ichigo?  You thought we were just going to sit around and do nothing after what happened?  Of course we were going to come after Inoue!  No questions asked.”  Rage blooms across her face, tinting it a pale pink.  “It’s shitty that you couldn’t wait for us.  How faithless of you.”  Rukia stops, pulls her chin down, and her rage calms into a look of hurt.  “Aren’t we friends, after all?”</p><p>Ichigo’s brows pinch together, and he nods.  “You’re right.  That was a pretty shitty thing to do.”</p><p>Never one to pass up an opening to rub it in, Rukia quickly adds, “And pretty damn arrogant, too.  Right?” </p><p>“Maybe a <em>little </em>arrogant,” quibbles Ichigo with a mild grin.</p><p>Rukia folds her arms against her chest, and, with the patented Kuchiki mixture of haughty indifference, she says, “I’m glad you’ve admitted to the errors of your ways, Ichigo.  <em>Hopefully</em>, you’ve learned to <em>never repeat them again</em>.”</p><p>Ichigo chuckles.  “Yes, <em>ma’am</em>,” he teases back.</p><p>“Good,” she says and sets her gaze on the horizon, “let’s go.  We’ve got a friend to save.”</p><p><em>Damn right</em>, Renji thinks, following Rukia’s lead. </p><p>Ichigo, Sado, and Ishida are quick to trail after them.</p>
<hr/><p>The night is dark and the hour late when Byakuya arrives at the Kuchiki estate.  His hair is still damp from his visit to the hot springs.  A visit he took to find some measure of relief from the thoughts that hound him.  It didn’t work.  The worry continues to grow, and, at night, it brings a helpless quality.</p><p>There is nothing to do at night.  Nothing but search for a rest that eludes him at every turn.</p><p>Judging by the golden glow of light in his wife’s quarters, Byakuya is not alone in his dogged pursuit of respite tonight.  He changes course and slips into the manor.</p><p>He finds his wife sitting at her desk.  Her red silks hang loose.  The collar of her kimono slips low down her back, revealing white skin that pulls taut over the delicate bones of her spine. </p><p>Byakuya stops at the threshold and watches her for a long moment.  She never turns to him.  Doesn’t hear him near.  Whatever she reads absorbs her senses completely.</p><p>When he reaches her, he glances down at the desk and shakes his head when he sees it is Sakuran’s journal that occupies his wife’s attention.  Agitation flares in him.  The extent of Aizen’s misdeeds come more into focus with each passing day.</p><p>Byakuya breaks the spell that has come over Hisana with a caress.  His hand skims her shoulder.  The touch is light, but it startles his wife.  She jerks against him as if his hand had been a wounding one.</p><p>With a sharp gasp, she yanks away, eyes on him.  Eyes full of fear.  “Milord,” she says on a ragged breath, and her hand stays his against her shoulder.  Relief replaces her anxiety, and her eyes fall close.  “I’m sorry,” she murmurs, voice scraped thin over her words.</p><p>Byakuya kneels at her side, and, reading his movements well, she sinks bonelessly against his chest.  He presses a kiss to the back of her head.  Her hair is damp and smells of wildflowers.  He holds the kiss long enough to distract her from his true intention, which is to close the cover of the journal.</p><p>Hisana doesn’t stir in protest, even as she watches him do the deed.  Instead, she leans further into his gravity, and she stares wordlessly at the thin black leather of the journal’s cover. </p><p>“I can take this—” he begins, fingers curling around the edge of the book, but she stops him with a featherlight touch. </p><p>“No, milord,” she says, “I think it’s only fair that the person who exhumes Sakuran’s past be someone who understands it more intimately.”</p><p>The tension in Byakuya’s hand goes slack.  His sweet wife, seeking to preserve the dignity of the departed.  He kisses her head again.  “I don’t think there’s much more to learn,” he reasons, hoping it will convince her to stop. </p><p>Hisana concedes with a nod.  “It’s hard to look away, though.  Especially since that’s all we ever did when Sakuran tried with words and actions to get our attention.” </p><p>Byakuya holds her to him, and the room goes silent.  So silent that he can hear the choir of crickets chirping and frogs bellowing their songs from the garden.  The thought of Aizen’s visits with his wife needles him.</p><p>He regrets not taking her away from that place sooner.  He had been… young.  Thoughtless.  Careless.  A whole host of things.  She had been very good at concealing the fact that there were other men she served.  So good, in fact, that he never stopped to consider it until….</p><p>“Did Aizen ever do anything to you?”  Judging by his wife’s heavy, almost lifeless stare, the captain had done treacherous things to Hisana’s contemporary.  And, Byakuya isn’t foolish enough to think that Hisana wouldn’t <em>lie</em> to the Captain of the Second during her testimony.  His wife had carried off other lies with ease during her inquisition.</p><p>Hisana pauses, considering his question.  “No,” she decides after some deliberation.</p><p>Decision, however, isn’t the same as truth, Byakuya reminds himself.  She’s holding back.  For his sake. </p><p>“It was three meetings?” he asks gravely.</p><p>“Only three,” she replies more quickly this time.</p><p>Byakuya wonders if the readiness of her words is because she’s telling the truth or because she has already spun the backstory to the lie that she has invented to put his mind at ease.</p><p>Before he can ask another question, she turns in his arms, stops his words with a glance, and says, “The Captain-Commander indicated that you’d be called away tomorrow.”</p><p>A fine digression, and one he accepts given the alternative.  “He hasn’t given me the order yet, but he did call a meeting tomorrow afternoon.”  Byakuya has no doubt that his wife extracted this knowledge during her discussion with the Captain-Commander this morning.</p><p>She was good at that.  Making others confess to things as payment for inconveniencing her.  And, make no mistake, he knows his wife considered the Captain-Commander’s call an inconvenience.</p><p>Hisana’s eyes shut, and a crease forms between her brows.  “Thank you, milord,” she murmurs.  Before he can ask the reason for her gratitude, she responds, “For spending this night here.  In the manor.”</p><p>He kisses her brow. </p><p>In truth, he hadn’t planned on making his presence known, assuming Hisana and the boys would be asleep.  Yet, he needed to see them one last time.  Just in case.</p><p>“How was the meeting?” he asks, brushing the damp tresses from her face.</p><p>Hisana shuts her eyes and sighs.  Shoulders lift in the barest of shrugs.  <em>It went</em>, is what her expression telegraphs.  “It was an ambush,” she says, voice low, breathy. </p><p>His brows rise.  “What?”</p><p>“The senior captainship was there.  They were kind but forceful.”  Her eyes blink open.  “I didn’t budge, milord.  They appealed to sentimentality solely.  I couldn’t hand over the future of our family to pretty hope.”</p><p>Byakuya lets out a low chuckle and grins.  He wishes he had been there to witness his wife’s sweet denial.  Captains Ukitake, Kyōraku, and, likely, Unohana wouldn’t have been surprised at the response.  The thought of the Captain-Commander having his request rejected? </p><p>Well, Byakuya’s grin lengthens. </p><p>“You don’t seem perturbed,” says Hisana with a smirk.  The coolness of her fingertips brushes against his cheek as she tucks a stray lock behind his ear.</p><p>Taking her hand in his own, he shakes his head and presses kisses against her knuckles.  “The Shihōin have called for a meeting of the Four Families.”</p><p>His wife’s brows lift in recognition.  “Lady Yoruichi mentioned that over tea this morning.”</p><p>He doesn’t resist the grin that spreads across his face at this.  “Is that so?”</p><p>Yoruichi had confessed her plot to call a meeting late in the afternoon.  So, she had merely sought his permission as a formality.  He sees how it is.</p><p>“Lady Yoruichi seemed confident that we might reach a consensus.”  As sweet as her voice sounds to his ears, Hisana’s choice of words betrays her apprehension.</p><p><em>Might</em>. </p><p>They <em>might</em> reach a consensus.  She doesn’t believe a meeting will do any good.  The Takatsukasa present a problem, one that skillful argumentation alone will not solve.    </p><p>This is an apprehension he holds as well.  “Are you comfortable attending the meeting, Hisana?” asks Byakuya.</p><p>Hisana nods her head obligingly.  “Of course, milord.”  The words slip out casually, as if she assumed her presence at the meeting was required.  “You have enough to bear,” she adds, tilting her head back, gaze skating across his face, “let me take this burden.” </p><p>Hisana brings his hand to her lips and kisses the top of it.  “Is milord hungry?” she asks sweetly.</p><p>Byakuya shakes his head.  “I ate at the unit.”  A terrible meal, he thinks, but it couldn’t be helped.  He hadn’t expected to return home until deep in the night, and he would’ve never expected his sweet wife to care for him at such a late hour.</p><p>“The children are with the night nurse,” she says softly. </p><p>It’s as close as Hisana ever comes to asking for intimacy when tucked inside the rooms of the manor, and he responds with a kiss.  His tongue parts her lips, and he deepens it.  With sweet slow sweeps of his mouth, he drinks her in.  She tastes of honey and tea. </p><p>Hisana reaches for him.  Byakuya feels her fingers hook into his silk, and he pulls closer, wanting nothing more than to hear her breath catch.</p><p>Just as he gets his wish, she pulls away. An unfocused gaze skims his lips.  Her cheeks are pink.  Her breath ragged. </p><p>Unable to resist the urge to pull her down with him, his fingers slip the loose knot of her silks deftly, and he parts the kimono with great care.  Hisana’s breath quickens, and he can feel the rise and fall of her chest.</p><p>The heat of her nipped waist and the swell of her hip brings a flush to his face.  He wants so badly, but he pulls back to seek her permission to take.</p><p>Hisana takes his face in both of her hands.  Her breath heats his lips, and she forces his gaze to her eyes with a look.  “May I ask milord a crude favor?” </p><p>Byakuya raises his brows, unprepared for what she has in mind.  “Of course,” he answers, voice a tangle of desire and as rough as sea-salt. </p><p>“Don’t be gentle tonight.”  Her gaze is dark but steady when she makes this request.  “I want to feel the weight of this for as long as you’re gone.”</p><p>The words snatch the breath from his throat, and he stares, uncomprehending.  “Are you certain?”</p><p>Hisana doesn’t answer with words.  Instead, she kisses him.  Hard.  Lightning in her teeth and thunder in her hands. </p><p>“Yes, milord,” she says after a long few moment that leave him breathless and aching for more, “and don’t stop until the first light of dawn.”</p>
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